


Finding Sleep

by iacobus



Series: Warmth [1]
Category: Firefly, Serenity, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Captain Tightpants, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Gay, Gay For You, Gay Sex, Kissing, M/M, Mostly Straight, Oral Sex, Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7336783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iacobus/pseuds/iacobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal can't sleep and finds that his new pilot has changed the way he looks. Soft grey underwear versus tightpants. Juniper versus coconut.</p><p>Written in essentially one sitting on 10 October 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> _a quick list of phrases and terms used:_
> 
>  
> 
>  **dong ma** \- understand  
>  **gorram** \- goddamn  
>  **bu yong** \- no need  
>  **tian xiao de** \- name of heaven  
>  **shen sheng gui** \- holy hell  
>  **blue** \- horny/randy  
>  **grapple** \- have sex  
>  **gui** \- hell  
>  **sly** \- gay  
>  **shuai** \- handsome  
>  **hun dan** \- bastard, ass  
>  **lao tian** \- oh lord, good heavens  
>  **xiao qiu hua** \- little autumn flower

*

It took less than a half hour for Kaylee to get back to _Serenity_ from wherever her folks' home was at, all dressed down for work in some dull green jumpsuit, smilin' big and luggin' an even bigger carisack over her ridiculously tiny shoulders. In that short interval Mal had already gotten rid of Bester and his belongings—'twasn't difficult, considerin' Bester didn't carry much in his brainpan yet had at least enough to know that Captain Malcolm Reynolds would lay a sound beating on him given half a reason to do so.

The girl had all but dumped her blob of a sack into her new quarters and was already doin' something in the engine room that Mal couldn't for the life of him comprehend when he walked in.

"Didn't you fix that thing already?" he called as he bent at the waist, trying to spot his new mechanic's face under the engine's workings.

"Oh! Yeah, captain!" Kaylee singsonged breathlessly, sliding out from where she had been working and sitting up in a comfortable sprawl on the floor. "'sall shiny. In fact, you wanna leave for Paquin now you can; I was just, you know, makin' improvements is all." She patted the machinery next to her affectionately, grinning like she was in love with it for giving her those dusty black marks on the tops of her cheeks.

Mal noticed that he was grinning back at her and shakin' his head with approval, and he was a mite surprised to find he wasn't feelin' the need to censor himself. "Don't go overboard your first day, little Kaylee," he admonished. "You've done more than good already today, and now's I got your formal 'all clear' 'sabout damn time we get moving again. I'm gonna have Hoban put us in the air soon as he can."

"'Hoban?'" the mechanic asked, emphasizing the "Ho" and quirking her lips shut to keep the laughter in her eyes from draining out through her mouth.

"Yup," Mal nodded solemnly, trying to be serious and captain-like. "He's the pilot—prefers to be called Wash." Kaylee's eyes twinkled even brighter. "Soon as he has us into the black and on a steady course I'll gather the whole crew in the common area so's you all can have a proper introduction." Feeling a sudden urge to _protect_ , he reached down and ruffled the girl's hair, eliciting a surprised squeal of glee. "Dong ma?"

Kaylee gave a sloppy salute and let out an, "Aye aye, Captain!" as Mal left the room and headed to the bridge.

*

"Wash," Mal called out stentoriously as he ducked into the bridge, "soon as you can do it, take us out of this gorram world and set a course for Paq-"

Mal's voice trailed off in mid-level shock as Wash, who had had his back to the captain, swiveled around in his chair. The fair-haired man was jutting his chin out to call attention to his smile, which at present was shaped like that of a cat what had just eaten a large, fuzzy mouse.

In actual fact, some cat had eaten Wash's large, furry moustache. The gorram thing was gone, every last bit. The man looked totally different, Mal thought, and he couldn't help staring—the furtive, shifty-eyed air of a ne'er-do-well salesman was gone. It'd been replaced by a surprisingly pleasin', young, playful face and an urgent, raffish smile.

Suddenly he realized what Zoë had meant when she'd told him: "Somethin' about him just bothers me."

Wash's grin faltered a little bit in the face of his boss's reaction, and he scratched at the smooth expanse under his nose self-consciously. "Does it look that bad, Captain? It was just becoming a nuisance to maintain," he said, still smiling. Then his expression switched to one of almost exaggerated concern as a dire thought crossed his mind, and he made as if to get up from his chair. "Are you alright, sir? Do you need a medic?"

Mal blinked twice and swallowed, waving emphatically with one hand for Wash to stay put. "No, no. Bu yong. Just a bit of honest shock is all," he explained, gesturing to his own lips, "but it's a mighty fine improvement. Shiny," he said, nodding. "I wasn't expecting such a pleasin' face to be lurking under that gingery caterpillar." Mal kicked himself as he saw his pilot's eyes widen and the beginnings of a blush start to bleed into the fair man's face.

Wash lowered his eyes and scratched the back of his head. "Err, Captain, if you're-"

"No, sorry," Mal butted in, determined to nip this awkward moment in the bud. He blinked as an image of Kaylee's legs wrapped around Bester's smooth back and ass flashed in his mind. "It's just... been a while, is all." _Yeah. I bet him knowing that is all_ manner _of helpful. What in the tian xiao de is wrong with me?_

Mal realized with a start that time had stopped for a beat, and that Wash was grinning slyly.

Sly-ly.

 _Ah, shen sheng gui,_ Mal thought. It had definitely been a right long while, so long that he was constantly blue. Once the war was over and the details of the armistice were hammered out, Mal had poured all his energy into findin' a job, and then into findin' a ship once he realized that any work worth havin' was rarely available to a former Browncoat. Then it was straight to assembling his little crew, and then gettin' a hold of the right contacts to line up his first few jobs in order to pay off the debt he owed for buyin' _Serenity_. Hell, he hadn't grappled with anyone since he and Tracey had that powerful hot session right before Du Khang, and before that it was some girl back on Shadow, but damned if he could remember who she was.

Wash cleared his throat and Mal was recalled to the present. The airman was saying that he'd get them out of atmo and headed toward Paquin within three minutes, and he was already turning back to the console, flicking switches and revving _Serenity_ 's newly-awoken engine.

Mal was mighty grateful for the change in topic, and made a dignified exit after nodding at Wash to get on with what he was hired for.

*

Like every night since leaving Hera, Mal was having trouble finding sleep even though it was well past 0:00—in fact, he was still fully clothed 'cause he knew from past experience that he'd be awake for awhile. The fact that this was the first night in a while he was spending on _Serenity_ with the engine actually working, faintly hummin' in the background, wasn't helping either. Oh, he was sure he'd get used to the sound again right quick—in fact he'd probably find it a mighty comfort by the time they all got to Paquin—but at present it was just a change to the landscape, and the terrain was damn foreign. Least the engine _was_ runnin', though: sacking Bester was probably the best thing he'd done in weeks.

He downed the last inch of the dry juniper liquor in the bottle under his bed and clambered above deck. Maybe a quick walk 'round the ship and a long sit at the bridge to take in the blankness of space would quiet his mind. 'twas a long shot, but Mal was nothin' if not willing to try.

The captain wasn't too surprised to see a faint light on the bridge and the back of Wash's head peeking over the chair as he drew near, for the man had told him that he often liked to sit at the bridge well into the night. He cleared his throat courteously as he came on deck so as not to startle the pilot.

But Mal was the one badly startled when Wash swiveled around with a "Hey, Cap', wanna drink?" The pilot was speaking a little too loudly and grinning a little too broadly, and he was holding a small bottle of something potent in his left hand, naked to the world but for a clingy pair of grey boxer briefs. Mal couldn't help but notice that the man had a good, fit body—he was definitely smaller than Mal and wasn't built like a fighter, but he didn't have to be. The bottle rested suggestively on Wash's left thigh, and captain found himself looking from there to the sweet outlines and shapes hidden 'neath the grey fabric.

Swatting the sly thoughts away and gathering enough wits about him to be angry, Mal whispered dangerously, "Wash, what the gui are you doing on the bridge in your birthday suit, and with a bottle of hooch? You should know better than anyone there ain't no eatin' or drinkin' up here. 'sides which there are womenfolk on my crew. From now on if you ain't in your bunk you need to be properly attired, dong ma?" Mal crossed his arms and stood over the pilot and the chair to emphasize his point.

"Sorry Captain," Wash said, obviously not. He craned his neck to look up at Mal, grimacing to convey at least the idea of apology. "I didn't think anyone'd be up this late, and she's running on autopilot right now anyway—figured it'd be okay to have a little drink and look out on the black since I was having trouble finding sleep." Wash took a swig, and the smell of coconut rum hit Mal's nose as the airman swiveled back to face the view. "Isn't it a sight to see?"

Mal looked out the windows onto the wide expanse, and his stance softened a bit—it _had_ been a bit of a while since he'd been up in the black. He felt the muscles in his head and between his shoulders relaxing as he stared. The 'verse was beautiful, cold and dark, but dotted with points of light. An unforgiving, blank landscape, but fair. Grand, too. It was a fine sight.

 _Serenity_ lurched all of a sudden, and Mal let out a short curse as he stumbled forward onto the pilot's chair, reaching for the nearest thing to stabilize himself.

Which happened to be Wash—Mal was bent over, embracing the man from behind the chair. The sudden jolt had driven Mal's arms around Wash's neck and Mal's nose into Wash's hair, and the captain gulped as he felt the smooth bare skin under his hands, felt the soft furze on Wash's chest, smelled a scent like fresh baked bread in Wash's hair. He felt hot, he felt like falling, he felt a guffaw thrumming its way out of Wash's chest.

Guffaw? _Laughter_?

Hiding his confusion under a thick layer of pissed off, Mal straightened up and stepped back to stand against the nearest wall as Wash continued to chuckle. "Wash, what in the tian xiao-"

"I turned the autopilot off for a sec and shook _Serenity_ a bit, Mal," the pilot said as he absently righted a dinosaur figurine on the console that had been jolted out of place and swiveled to face the captain with a grin. "It was the only way I'd get you on top of me, and I know you've been _wanting_ to get on top of me since this afternoon, so I figured, hey, why not cut to the chase? It got your attention better than shadow puppets would've done."

Mal just stared with his eyebrows drawn, his mouth slightly open and his arms crossed, and Wash began to shift uncomfortably under the unreadable gaze. "Some people juggle geese," he said defensively, raising his eyebrows in what Mal assumed was an attempt at being cute. "Aren't you at least impressed by my flying?"

The captain shook his head in exasperation. "Wash, I ain't overly sly; hell, I'm barely half-sly. And I ain't looking for a relationship or anything similar, 'cause you see, the thing about shipboard romances-"

"Hey, whoa whoa! I'm not all sly either, Mal! But I saw you looking at me ever since you saw me without the 'stache, and I'm sure you've been just as blue as I've been all day. 'cause I think you're pretty damn shuai myself, if a little bit of an uptight hun dan. Sorry," Wash said, grimacing as Mal glared, "but my point is, let's be done with just _looking_ at each other, huh?" Wash stood up and put down his bottle, stepping up so close to the captain that their noses were less than a foot away. Mal betrayed no reaction aside from a brief widening of his eyes and a quick blink as he realized with surprise that the smaller man was near as tall as he was.

A moment passed, and Wash advanced one more step, pressing his body into Mal's, pressing Mal's body into the wall. Mal stiffened for a split second, but then Wash's mouth landed on his neck like falling leaves, Wash's hands grabbed him by the hips, and he sagged against the ship, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands over the other man's. The pilot's lips and tongue began to work their way up to Mal's jawline, then down to his collarbone, then back up again, nipping and licking and sucking until Mal growled hungrily and grabbed Wash's face with both hands, kissing him powerful hard. The mellow of coconut mingled with acrid juniper berries, and Wash began to sigh deep in his throat as Mal felt himself hardening painfully against the tight prison of his gorram pants. The fair man's underwear was much more forgiving, and Mal reached down with one hand to feel Wash's length harden through the soft, thin fabric.

Wash gasped when Mal "cut to the chase" and started sucking on his nipples one at a time. The captain plunged a hand into his airman's underwear, stroking the warm length and coaxing out sweet wet drops which he rubbed back into the head of Wash's dick as he continued to kiss the pilot's chest. Wash, for all he had initiated the whole thing, was now decidedly captive, and his hands grabbed the back of Mal's head, fingers running through the dark brown hair in a way the captain found all manner of pleasin' as he worked his crew member into a frenzy.

A few minutes later, Wash broke away from a particularly hungry kiss and gave the captain a smitten, needful look before breathing: "This isn't fair—you're all clothed and I'm not."

Mal nodded, breathing hard and barely able to form anything of coherence in his brainpan. "My bunk. Come on."

Mal never figured out how he and Wash managed to get into his bunk without waking the others; they were certainly breathing and stumbling loud enough. Once on the bed, he let Wash undress him, and the man complained loudly and good-naturedly over the difficulty of getting Mal's pants off. But for all the pilot was a happy-go-lucky person up on the bridge, he was pretty damn serious and intense belowdecks, and that excited Malcolm Reynolds something powerful.

The captain took his time, exploring Wash's body with his hands and lips and tongue, sighing at the other man's urgent need to return all favors. He wasn't sure what was better, shovin' his entire length into Wash's warm, eager mouth, or takin' Wash into his own and hearin' the pilot's breath shorten and grow ragged as the man slid back and forth between his wet lips. Wash couldn't decide either, so they took turns on each other, bringing each other to the edge of the cliff over and over and yet stopping before either of them could fall into the precipice. Both men were sweating, less from the exertion and more from the effort to keep themselves in check so that they could draw out the pleasures to their fullest.

Finally Mal figured the time for being patient and waiting all sweet-like was done, and he turned Wash onto his side, positioning himself behind the pilot. Nibbling on Wash's ear, he slowly pushed his spit-slickened member in a scant inch, then out, then in a little more, then out, then all the way to the hilt.

Wash groaned and bucked against Mal, nearly coming undone and moving faster when Mal wrapped an efficient hand over his aching dick. He craned his head back to kiss Mal hungrily as their hips moved together, but the kiss was short-lived, 'cause a minute or two later Wash straightened out and tensed against Mal, throwing his head back against the captain's shoulder and moaning loudly as he came all over Mal's hand and bed. Mal felt the hot liquid all over his fingers as Wash shuddered and whimpered, felt Wash's body tighten around his dick. He couldn't quite stop the sharp, short yell as he finally let himself fall over the edge and come into Wash, gently biting the back of the man's pale, damp neck as he shot deep.

Breathing heavily, the two lay there without moving, tired and spent. Mal managed to rouse himself enough to find a nearby towel—or maybe it was a shirt, he wasn't in a mood to care—and use it to clean them both up a bit. Soon as that was done he flopped right back onto the bed, where Wash took him into his arms.

And at last, two hours after they left the bridge, both of them were able to find their sleep.

*

Mal groaned. Someone next to him was humming, and it was powerful obnoxious.

He started and woke up completely with an inelegant snort when a man sang, "Good morning!" and slapped his bare ass, bringing back memories of the night just past.

Mal rolled over to face his pilot. The wily little hun dan was on his side, smiling down at the captain with his head propped up on an elbow. His fair hair, wild from sleep, had shifted to a soft, pleasin' brown in the dim light of the room.

"Mornin', Wash."

"Hey, Mal." Wash reached out and gently brushed some hair back away from Mal's forehead.

Mal swallowed nervously as he looked up at the fond, affectionate grin on the other man's face. "Wash, you remember what I said last night, about not being sly and not being crazy about shipboard-"

Wash threw back his head and groaned theatrically. "Lao tian, Mal, don't you worry. You're a damn good hump, Captain, but you're not my type. I'd imagine we'd drive each other to drink if we were a couple."

Mal blinked. "Huh. Well. Should I be relieved or insulted?"

Wash laughed and rolled onto his back, stretching out like a contented cat and yawning mightily. Mal winced when the man's jaw made a cracking noise.

"Seriously, Captain, do you really want me writing you love notes that begin with 'To My Lambietoes' and end with 'From Your Pookie Lumps?'" Wash asked, staring at the ceiling. "Or should I address you as 'Xiao Qiu Hua?'"

Mal cracked the first smile of the day. "Hell no, not if I have any say in it," and Wash chose that moment to reach out in play and squeeze Mal's morning erection, guffawing as the captain twitched mightily and yelped out an indignant "Hey!"

The pilot sat up slowly, still brimming over with chipmunk-cheeked amusement, and Mal thought uncharitably that Wash was probably right about bein' able to potentially drive him to drink. "Don't worry, Captain, I won't become a complication to you. Anyway I've got my eye on someone else on this boat."

Mal sat up too, but with a start. " _What_? This another one of your gorram jokes? Who?"

Wash lowered his head sheepishly and scratched at the back of his head. "Well. Ahh, I don't know..."

A sudden flash of intuition hit Mal. Wash wouldn't look so wistful if it was Kaylee he was after, because Kaylee was within Wash's reach. And Kaylee'd just signed on. Still, he couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice as he said, " _Zoë_? It's _Zoë_ you're after?" Wash stared at the captain apprehensively, but it was Mal's turn to guffaw. "Well, I got _nothin'_ in the way of shipboard romances to worry about—no power in the 'verse would give you a chance with her," he crowed, punching the airman on the shoulder.

Wash almost looked offended. "Hey! You never know..."

Mal was still laughing. "Right. Good luck slappin' _her_ rump and callin' her a xiao qiu hua."

"Hey, just cause _you_ don't like it..."

"Says who?" Mal reined in his laughter, keeping his smile on as he looked over from Wash to the wall clock. "Any rate, it's gettin' on time for the rest of the crew to be waking up, so let's get washed up and get on with our day. We can probably make it to Paquin by late tonight even without goin' to full burn."

Wash looked over at the clock. "Don't you think we can spare a few minutes before all that? Come on, Mal," he said, grinning innocently and pushing his captain back onto the bed, "I gotta return that powerful hump you gave me last night." Mal grunted in surprise as the man fell on top of him with a low growl, and he felt Wash's morning hardness grinding into his own. "Why don't you give me a try? Speaking of full burn, you know I'm a good pilot if I can get a spaceship to rise up into the black _and_ get a 'rise' out of its captain," he said, grabbing Mal's dick and stroking it purposefully as he lowered his mouth to Mal's smooth chest.

Mal knew he should be rollin' his eyes at the bad joke, but all the touchin' and tastin' and breathin' were making that downright difficult. Instead he ran his hands through Wash's wild hair, the color of leaves on the wind, and pulled his pilot in for hard, welcoming kisses. The rest of this day would be long and laborious for all of them—days usually were—and Mal intended to make these few minutes worth every second.

And perhaps Wash's comments weren't far off the mark, cause when they kissed it felt mighty close to flyin' into the black on full burn, and the fall was just as sweet.


End file.
